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The Little 

Red Gown 



A True Story 
by 

Harriet Bray 



*f 




THE LITTLE RED GOWN 

A TRUE STORY 

BY 
HARRIET BRAY 



Read before the 

Monmouth County Historical Association 

October 26, iSgg. 



Published by request of the descendants of 
Mary Stillwell. 



JACOB A. LEWIS. 

LAW PRINTER AND STATIONER. 

MAT A WAN. N. J, 



a^i^iN 



NOTE. 

I can vouch for the truth of the principal 
statements and incidents in this story. Mary 
Stillwell, was the daughter of John Stillwell, 
who was a sterling patriot and a Quartermas- 
ter of the First Regiment of the Monmouth 
Militia in the war of the American Revolu- 
tion. He owned a farm at Garret's Hill, in 
the Township of Middletown. where he re- 
sided, his house and farm buildings were 
burned, and his farm stock all stolen by the 
Tories and refugees in the war. His wife 
was Elizabeth Watson, daughter of John 
and Hope Taylor Watson, the latter marry- 
ing John Burrowes upon the death of her 
first husband. 

Elizabeth Stillwell had a sister Hope 
Watson, who married Col. Asher Holmes of 
the Continental Army, and a cousin was 
Mary Taylor, the wife of Absalom Bain- 
bridge, and the mother of Commodore 
Bainbridge. 

Mary Stillwell was about eight years of 
age at the time of the Battle of Monmouth, 
and lived with her mother on the homestead. 
The flight of Elizabeth and her children to 
the house of ^er cousin. George Taylor, a 
Loyalist, the Encampment of a portion of the 
British Army at Garret's Hill the day after 



the battle, the establishment of Gen. Corn- 
wallis' headquarters at George Taylor's 
house, the fondness of the General for Mary, 
and her sitting upon his knee singing Whig 
songs with great zest, her discovery of her 
red short-gown on a little Tory girl among 
the camp followers and her complaint to the 
General who caused the garment to be re- 
stored to its rightful owner, are matters of 
well-founded tradition, and verified by state- 
ment of Elizabeth Stillwell to her grand- 
children some of whom are still living. 

As a matter of interest in the herome of 
the story, 1 may add what is also true, that 
Mary Stillwell saved her father from capture 
by the enemy. He was visiting his home 
one night and out of her bed-room window 
Mary saw armed men approaching the house 
with bayonets glistening in the moonlight. 
Quickly apprising her father of the danger, 
he made his escape by a rear door. Cato. 
the colored servant, did not fare so well. 
He, too, ran out of the house and climbed a 
tree. He was discovered by the soldiers, 
who pricked him with their bayonets and 
tried to make him tell where his master was 
but Cato could not betray him if he v ould as 
he did not know. 

John Stillwell died in 1813. at the age of 
seventy-five years. He was a trusted friend 
of General Forman, who loaned him a house 
to live in when his buildings were burned, 
until, as the General expressed it. "he could 
better himself;" and at one time, under 
orders of Gen. Washington, he was delegated 



by General Forman, who provided a spy 
glass for the purpose, to watch the British 
fleet in Raritan Bay from Garret's Hill, and 
forward to Philadelphia as speedily as pos- 
sible the news of its departure This he sc- 
complished successfully by a relay of horses 
every twenty miles, so that before the last 
vessel was out of sight from the Highlands, 
and within six hours from the weighing of 
anchor, the information was received at 
Philadelphia. 

Elizabeth Stillwell survived her husband 
about thirteen years and was nearly eighty- 
two years of age at her death; both are in- 
te red in the Baptist Church Burying Ground 
at Middletown, of which church they were 
members for many years, and he a promi- 
nent official. 

Mary Stillwell married Richard Applega:e. 
and died in 1804. leaving eight children sur- 
viving her. Her remains are interred by 
the side of her husband in the family burying 
ground upon the old Applegate Homestead 
in Middletown. at Applegate's Landing. 

JOHN STILLWELL APPLEGATE 
March 25th, A. D., 1901. 



THE LITTLE RED GOWN, 

A TRUE STORY. 



SUNDAY morning. June 28, 1778, 
was clear and cloudless, but in- 
tensely hot. Not a breath of air stirred 
the leaves of the tall chestnut trees; 
the heated air quivered in the distance, 
over the yellow grain-fields, and the 
bay. where the British fleet lay at 
anchor, was as smooth as glass. 

In the shade of the chestnut trees 
stood a large farm house, on the ver- 
-rardah of which sat a little girl dressed 
in plain, blue homespun, talking eager- 
ly to a young slave of about eighteen 
years of age, telling him of a new red 
short-gown of which she was very 
proud. Now, new dresses, for little 



girls or even grown people, were rare 
articles in those days, and little Mary 
Stillwell lived near the Jersey coast, 
with the British fleet in sight on the 
bay. and danger always imminent. Her 
father was with the American army and 
she and her mother with her baby 
brother were protected only by the 
slaves. 

But children do not often think of 
danger when all looks right, and Mary 
after telling Cato how her grand-mother 
had sent the gown added, "and it is 
put away in the little hair trunk with 
brass nails, for I am not going to wear 
it till father comes home from fighting 
the Tories, then I am going to have it 
on and run to meet him"-but before 
she had finished telling her little plans 
a roar, like a peal of distant thunder, 
attracted her attention. 

••What's that, Cato?" she asked. 

"Cat sound like thunder, honey, 
reckon we pwine to hab a shower," 



said Cato, looking at the sky. ^'Don^ 
see no clouds neither," he added after 
a careful inspection. "Unc Pomp," 
he called to a gray-headed slave who 
had just appeared "What kind of 
thunder is dat? Don' see a cloud any- 
whah." 

"You Cato, you nebber did know 
nofin," replied Uncle Pomp, "dat's no 
thunder, dat's cannon, dey's a battle 
somewhah. Hope dey'll chase de 
British 'way out to sea whah dey'll neb- 
ber come back, so Marse John can 
come home." 

Another roar, a trifle louder than the 
first, v/as heard and several other slaves 
came out to listen, but before they re- 
alized that it was not the mutterings of 
distant thunder, a fair-haired lady 
stepped out on the verandah. She 
glanced anxiously over the fields and 
out over the bay at the fleet, then 
beckoning to the old man asked. "Is not 
that cannonading I hear. Pomp?" 



"Yes, Mis 'Lisabeth, I reckon dey's 
a fight," he answered. 

"Where would you thinl< it is?" she 
questioned, looking alarmed. 

"O 'tain't very close," said Pomp, 
assuming an easy assurance which he 
by no means felt, "it comes from de 
norfwes' and it must be ten or 'leven 
miles off. Reckon it's up in Freehold 
Township, somewhah 'round de court 
house maybe." 

Mistress Stillwell who was a brave 
woman recovered her self possession, 
and after a moment's thought said firm- 
ly, "Pomp, if the British are defeated 
they will retreat this way to reach the 
fleet. It is not safe for us to stay here 
and we must go at once for I see a 
commotion among the boats now." 

The six slaves ail began to talk at 
once and the hubbub increased as they 
saw a young negro running across the 
fields toward them. Cato seized his 
little pet, Mary, and was about to run 



with her, when old Pomp's voice was 
heard above the uproar. '*You Cato, 
you put dat chile down, and all you folks 
you jes' keep still, dat's no soldier 
comin', 'tain't de right color, dat's only 
Marse Taylor's Sann, and if you don't 
keep still Missus can't hear what he 
hab to say, an' habn't we got to take 
care of Missus an' de chilins? Didn't 
Marse John say so?" 

Sam came up breathless and pant- 
ing and said, "Mis' Stillwell, Marse 
George he say, you an" de chilins jes' 
come right ober to our house 'cause de 
red coats might came any minute, an' 
he can't do nofin with you a mile away. 
He say don' stop to fetch nothin' but 
jes' come right off." 

Mary at first clung to Cato in terror 
but seeing her mother calm, and think- 
ing of her absent father, she began to 
feel more courageous and during the 
next exciting half hour, acted like a 
brave little maiden. She and her 



mother, with Pomp who carried the baby, 
were soon walking across the fields, for 
every horse was at the war. The slaves 
followed, each carrying what he could 
find in the hasty flight. They went to 
Mistress Stillwell's cousin, Master 
George Taylor, who was still loyal to 
King George, and to whose protection 
they had owed their safety more than 
once. As they approached the house, 
Mary suddenly thought of her beautiful 
new short-gown, which had been left to 
its fate, but seeing her mother's anxious 
face, she bravely kept her trouble to 
herself and mentioned her loss only to 
the sympathizing Cato. 

All that day the roar and vibration 
of distant artillery were noticeable and 
occasionally rumors of defeat or of 
victory were heard. During the night 
Mary was wakened by the tramp of 
soldiers, and in the morning found the 
house surrounded by red coated soldiers 
and hersel^ staying at the headquarters 



of General Cornwallis; for the battle 
of Monmouth, through the treachery 
or carelessness of Lee, had not been 
a decisive victory for the Americans, 
and the British had quietly drawn off 
to the shore in the night. Sir Henry 
Clinton and his army encamped along 
the coast; here they remained about 
a week until preparations for embarking 
were completed, and General Corn- 
wallis made the house of loyal Master 
Taylor his head-quarters. 

That day as Mary was walking on 
the verandah, holding her mother's 
hand and looking at the soldiers, of 
whom she was sorely afraid at first, 
she saw through the open window a 
short, rather fat, man with small eyes 
and a powdered wig, who sat writing at a 
table. The gentleman, who was no 
other than Cornwallis himself, was at- 
tracted by the bright little girl and call- 
ed her to him. They soon became 
good friends and, an hour later, when 



Cato was carrying some refreshments 
to the General and his staff, he nearly 
dropped his tray in amazement at the 
sight of his small mistress seated on 
General Cornwallis' knee, singing the 
staunchest of whig songs to the officers 
who were laughing heartily. From 
that hour Mary was the pet of the 
whole regiment from General to drum- 
mer boy. 

One morning one of the officers, 
while making a leisurely inspection of the 
camp, took Mary with him and Cato, 
who never quite trusted any English- 
man, followed a short distance behind. 
In a field near the regular encampment 
was a rude party of camp followers— 
the "mixed multitude" always found in 
the wake of an army and, during the 
Revolution, more dreaded than the 
British soldiers, or even the Hessians 
themselves, for being Americans, they 
knew the country better and were more 
skillful in plundering. Mary's sharp 



eyes saw that there were women, and 
even some little girls, in the camp, and 
what was her dismay to see a small 
Tory arrayed in her beautiful new 
scarlet gown for which she had not 
ceased to grieve. Her first impulse 
was to run at once and capture it, but 
fear of the Tories and the restraining 
hand of the officer in whose care she 
was, prevented that; then she begged 
so earnestly to be allowed to return to 
the house, that the soldier handed her 
over to the devoted Cato, wondering 
why she had so suddenly lost interest in 
the encampment. 

Mary r2.n to the house as fast as her 
little feet could carry her, meaning to tell 
hermotherof her startling discovery, but, 
seeing her friend General Cornwallis 
through the open door and, before Cato, 
or the armed sentry in the hall could 
interfere, she darted into the room, 
making her courtesy so quickly that it 
was only a funny little bob, and gasped 



"0, General Cornwallis, there is a 
naughty little Tory out there, no bigger 
than I am, and she has got n:iy beauti- 
ful new red gown," and, being only a 
little girl, Mary began to cry. 

Cato, seeing that the General was 
busy with his writing, and fearing that 
Mary might be severely punished for 
her audacity, ran frantically upstairs and 
finding Mistress Stillwell cried out ex- 
citedly, "O Mis' Lisabeth, Mary done 
run into de General's office, whar 
nobody's 'lowed to go, an' she done 
'sturb him. Jes' please go right down 
an' don' let 'em hurt her, fo' nobody 
knows what a British man mout do, an' 
I ain't heerd how his gout is to-day 
neither." 

As they came through the hall 
Mistress Stillwell could see that Gate's 
fes.rs were groundless, for the kind- 
hearted General had stopped writing 
and Mary was leaning her curly head 
against his shoulder, as confidingly as if 



he were her father, and telling him that 
"little girls don't have new dresses now- 
a-days for every shilling goes to father 
to help fight the British, and we have 
to wear ugly homespun, but my grandma 
sent me a pretty red short-gown, and 
now the Tories have got it" and the 
tears were ready to fall again, but the 
General said: 

"Cheer up, little maiden, and we will 
see what can be done." 

He called an orderly and commanded 
him to take Mary with him, and bring to 
the house the little girl from among the 
camp followers, whom she should select. 

Mistress Stillwell was now ushered 
into the General's presence, somewhat 
more formally than her daughter had 
been, and made her apologies for 
Mary's intrusion. General Cornwallis 
after assuring her that no apology was 
needed, asked her to be seated and 
chatted pleasantly until Mary returned 
in triumph with her young prisoner who 



still wore the much desired scarlet 
gown and who was very much frighten- 
ed indeed. 

General Cornwallis asked her where 
she got the dress which she wore. 
After much hesitation she managed to 
falter— "mother got it over at the farm 
house on the hill— the one with the big 
chestnut trees--the one where the rebel 
John Stillwell lives— mother got it out 
of a little trunk." 

"But," said the General "it belongs 
to this little girl," pointing to Mary who 
stood by his side, "and you must give 
it to her, although she is a little rebel 
and 1 cannot make a royalist of her." 
Then turning to Mary he added, "run, 
sweetheart, and let mother put the 
gown on you, and then come show me 
how pretty you look." 

Mistress Stillwell took the two 
children from the room, and in a few 
minutes, the little Tory clothed in 
homespun went back to the camp. 



while a little lady, bright as a flamingo, 
instead of running to meet the Quar'er- 
master of the first regiment, Monmouth 
Militia, as she had planned to do on 
the first appearance of the gown, walk- 
ed proudly in and made a most elabo- 
rate courtesy to Lord Cornwallis, the 
British Commander, who kissed her 
and gave her a gold piece, then teassd 
her, calling her h's little red-coat. 

The months and years passed away 
and Mary, living in the heart of the 
war, had many adventures, but of none 
did her children ,:nd gr=-ndch Idrsn love 
to hear so well, as oi the recovery of 
the little red gov/n at the intervention 
of the British General, and never would 
Mistress Stillwell hear a word against 
Lord Cornwallis, whose unfailing courte- 
sy and kindness made her forced resi- 
dence at the Royalist Headquarters so 
endurable. 




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